


sharp

by onbeinganangel



Series: kinkuary 2021 [26]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Small (Implied) Reminder That Fred Is Dead, Blow Jobs, F/M, HP Kinkuary 2021, Shibari, kink as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:20:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29820009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onbeinganangel/pseuds/onbeinganangel
Summary: It’s easy to get lost in the contrast between her tender touch and the sharp rope. The different textures. The way the rope burns and the way her hands soothe. The way her hands make him burn all over and the way the rope soothes his brain.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley
Series: kinkuary 2021 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137662
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: HP Kinkuary 2021





	sharp

**Author's Note:**

> The last of the Weasley siblings to make an appearance for my Kinkuary fics!!! Here he is! Get it, Georgie!  
> This one is super wee and gentle and so so full of love because at this point we all know love is my main kink, right? I just can't resist it.
> 
> Oh, and this isn't beta read — again. So, idk, ignore my misplaced commas. They're my weakness.

The bite of the rope is just right. It’s always just right. Tight enough for him to feel it. Tight enough for him to feel it _after_ , sometimes tight enough for it to mark, for a little while. But never too tight.

Angelina is gentle, even when she does this. _Especially_ when she does this. She’s put him back together more times than he can remember now. They’ve put each other back together after— well, _after._

It’s easy to get lost in the contrast between her tender touch and the sharp rope. The different textures. The way the rope burns and the way her hands soothe. The way her hands make him burn all over and the way the rope soothes his brain. The way that when they do this his mind finally goes quiet and he stops hurting so much.

The _ache is different_ with the rope. 

Angelina runs her hand through George’s hair and asks what he wants. A gentle check-in. An easy caress. 

“No suspension,” he says, almost like a question, like he’s making a request. He’s already way too far gone to handle a suspension. She doesn’t have to do much, but keep talking to him in her soft voice, keep working her steady hands over the rope. He’s on his knees, and she ties his wrists together first.

“Can I tie these here?” Angelina asks, gesturing to the beam above them. “For support. No suspension,” she repeats, before he even opens his mouth.

“Mhmm,” he agrees.

He watches her, the way her hands work the rope, with rapid but precise movements. They’d learned it together — tying each other up, being tied by others, watching. But it was clear pretty early on that George would much rather be the one wearing the ropes. Angelina was a much more confident rigger than he ever could have been.

He likes watching her because he knows how much she loves it — every pass, every knot, every loop. The way she runs her fingers down the rope, softly but with intention.

They never rush this. He settles comfortably on his haunches and breathes in, feeling the tension of the tie from his wrists to the ring on the beam.

More often than not, she wraps him in a hogtie, knees drawn and apart and fucks him with a strap-on until they’re both spent. 

On slow days, when his body can handle it and he’s not tired of lifting boxes and arguing with parents over the safety of one or other Wheezes product, she suspends him from his hips, his waist, his shoulders. 

Sometimes it’s not even sexual at all, it’s just a way to make her focus and slow down, a way to make him take a step back and let go.

Other days, like today, it falls somewhere in between. All they need is this — rope drawn over goosebumpy skin, hands over taut muscle, lips over hungry lips. Angelina’s whole attention focused on George and the feeling of being someone’s whole world.

She finishes tying him letting the tail of the rope fall down, after tugging on it gently a couple of times.

“Comfy?” She asks.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, like a sigh.

“Okay. Relax, then,” Angelina says, and ducks under the rope that connects George’s hands to the ring above him. “Close your eyes.”

And he doesn’t know what comes first — the intuition, the knowledge that it’s about to happen or the familiar feeling of her warm breath over his cock, but he closes his eyes and lets her attention wash over him.

**Author's Note:**

> for a more hyperactive and extremely chatty version of me, come say hi [on tumblr](https://onbeinganangel.tumblr.com)


End file.
